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The
History of England from the Accession of James IIBy Thomas Babington MacAulayChapter 2 Part 2

One of the most
remarkable speeches of that day was made by ayoung man, whose
eccentric career was destined to amaze Europe.This was Charles
Mordaunt, Viscount Mordaunt, widely renowned,many years
later, as Earl of Peterborough. Already he had givenabundant proofs
of his courage, of his capacity, and of thatstrange
unsoundness of mind which made his courage and capacityalmost useless
to his country. Already he had distinguishedhimself as a wit
and a scholar, as a soldier and a sailor. He hadeven set his
heart on rivalling Bourdaloue and Bossuet. Though anavowed
freethinker, he had sate up all night at sea to composesermons, and had
with great difficulty been prevented fromedifying the crew of a man of war with his
pious oratory. Henow addressed
the House of Peers, for the first time, withcharacteristic
eloquence, sprightliness, and audacity. He blamedthe Commons for
not having taken a bolder line. "They have beenafraid," he
said, "to speak out. They have talked of apprehensions
and jealousies. What have apprehension and jealousyto do here?
Apprehension and jealousy are the feelings with whichwe regard future
and uncertain evils. The evil which we areconsidering is
neither future nor uncertain. A standing armyexists. It is
officered by Papists. We have no foreign enemy.There is no
rebellion in the land. For what, then, is this forcemaintained,
except for the purpose of subverting our laws andestablishing
that arbitrary power which is so justly abhorred byEnglishmen?"

Jeffreys spoke
against the motion in the coarse and savage styleof which he was
a master; but he soon found that it was not quiteso easy to
browbeat the proud and powerful barons of England intheir own hall,
as to intimidate advocates whose bread dependedon his favour or
prisoners whose necks were at his mercy. A manwhose life has
been passed in attacking and domineering, whatevermay be his
talents and courage, generally makes a mean figurewhen he is
vigorously assailed,for, being
unaccustomed to stand on the defensive, he becomesconfused; and
the knowledge that all those whom he has insultedare enjoying his
confusion confuses him still more. Jeffreys wasnow, for the
first time since he had become a great man,encountered on
equal terms by adversaries who did not fear him.To the general
delight, he passed at once from the extreme ofinsolence to the
extreme of meanness, and could not refrain fromweeping with rage and vexation. Nothing indeed was wanting tohis humiliation;
for the House was crowded by about a hundredpeers, a larger
number than had voted even on the great day ofthe Exclusion
Bill. The King, too, was present. His brother hadbeen in the
habit of attending the sittings of the Lords foramusement, and
used often to say that a debate was asentertaining as
a comedy. James came, not to be diverted, but inthe hope that
his presence might impose some restraint on thediscussion. He
was disappointed. The sense of the House was sostrongly
manifested that, after a closing speech, of greatkeenness, from
Halifax, the courtiers did not venture to divide.An early day was
fixed for taking the royal speech intoconsideration;
and it was ordered that every peer who was not ata distance from
Westminster should be in his place.

On the following
morning the King came down, in his robes, to theHouse of Lords.
The Usher of the Black Rod summoned the Commonsto the bar; and
the Chancellor announced that the Parliament wasprorogued to the
tenth of February. The members who had votedagainst the
court were dismissed from the public service. Charles Fox quitted the
Pay Office. The Bishop of London ceased to beDean of the
Chapel Royal, and his name was struck out of the listof Privy
Councillors.

The effect of
the prorogation was to put an end to a legalproceeding of
the highest importance. Thomas Grey, Earl ofStamford, sprung
from one of the most illustrious houses ofEngland, had
been recently arrested and committed close prisonerto the Tower on
a charge of high treason. He was accused ofhaving been
concerned in the Rye House Plot. A true bill had beenfound against
him by the grand jury of the City of London, andhad been removed
into the House of Lords, the only court beforewhich a temporal
peer can, during a session of Parliament, bearraigned for
any offence higher than a misdemeanour. The firstof December had
been fixed for the trial; and orders had beengiven that
Westminster Hall should be fitted up with seats andhangings. In
consequence of the prorogation, the hearing of thecause was
postponed for an indefinite period; and Stamford soonregained his
liberty.

Three other
Whigs of great eminence were in confinement when thesession closed,
Charles Gerard, Lord Gerard of Brandon, eldestson of the Earl
of Macclesfield, John Hampden, grandson of therenowned leader
of the Long Parliament, and Henry Booth, LordDelamere. Gerard
and Hampden were accused of having taken part inthe Rye House
Plot: Delamere of having abetted the Westerninsurrection.

It was not the
intention of the government to put either Gerardor Hampden to
death. Grey had stipulated for their lives beforehe consented to become a witness against
them. But there was astill stronger
reason for sparing them. They were heirs to largeproperty: but
their fathers were still living. The court couldtherefore get
little in the way of forfeiture, and might get muchin the way of
ransom. Gerard was tried, and, from the very scantyaccounts which
have come down to us, seems to have defendedhimself with
great spirit and force. He boasted of the exertionsand sacrifices
made by his family in the cause of Charles theFirst, and
proved Rumsey, the witness who had murdered Russell bytelling one
story and Cornish by telling another, to be utterlyundeserving of
credit. The jury, with some hesitation, found averdict of
Guilty. After long imprisonment Gerard was suffered toredeem himself. Hampden had inherited the political opinionsand a large
share of the abilities of his grandfather, but haddegenerated from
the uprightness and the courage by which his grandfather had
been distinguished. It appears that the prisonerwas, with cruel
cunning, long kept in an agony of suspense, inorder that his
family might be induced to pay largely for mercy.His spirit sank
under the terrors of death. When brought to thebar of the Old
Bailey he not only pleaded guilty, but disgracedthe illustrious
name which he bore by abject submissions andentreaties. He
protested that he had not been privy to the designof
assassination; but he owned that he had meditated rebellion,professed deep
repentance for his offence, implored theintercession of
the Judges, and vowed that, if the royal clemencywere extended to
him, his whole life should be passed in evincinghis gratitude
for such goodness. The Whigs were furious at hispusillanimity,
and loudly declared him to be far more deservingof blame than
Grey, who, even in turning King's evidence, hadpreserved a
certain decorum. Hampden's life was spared; but hisfamily paid
several thousand pounds to the Chancellor. Somecourtiers of
less note succeeded in extorting smaller sums. Theunhappy man had
spirit enough to feel keenly the degradation towhich he had
stooped. He survived the day of his ignominy severalyears. He lived
to see his party triumphant, to be once more animportant member
of it, to rise high in the state, and to makehis persecutors
tremble in their turn. But his prosperity wasembittered by
one insupportable recollection. He never regainedhis
cheerfulness, and at length died by his own hand.

That Delamere,
if he had needed the royal mercy, would have foundit is not very
probable. It is certain that every advantage whichthe letter of
the law gave to the government was used against himwithout scruple
or shame. He was in a different situation fromthat in which
Stamford stood. The indictment against Stamford hadbeen removed
into the House of Lords during the session ofParliament, and
therefore could not be prosecuted till theParliament
should reassemble. All the peers would then havevoices, and
would be judges as well of law as of fact. But thebill against
Delamere was not found till after the prorogation.He was therefore
within the jurisdiction of the Court of the Lord High Steward.This court, to
which belongs, during a recess ofParliament, the
cognizance of treasons and felonies committed bytemporal peers,
was then so constituted that no prisoner chargedwith a political
offence could expect an impartial trial. TheKing named a
Lord High Steward. The Lord High Steward named, athis discretion,
certain peers to sit on their accused brother.The number to be
summoned was indefinite. No challenge wasallowed. A
simple majority, provided that it consisted of twelve,was sufficient
to convict. The High Steward was sole judge of the law; and the
Lords Triers formed merely a jury to pronounce onthe question of
fact. Jeffreys was appointed High Steward. Heselected thirty
Triers; and the selection was characteristic ofthe man and of
the times. All the thirty were in politicsvehemently
opposed to the prisoner. Fifteen of them were colonelsof regiments,
and might be removed from their lucrative commandsat the pleasure
of the King. Among the remaining fifteen were theLord Treasurer,
the principal Secretary of State, the Steward ofthe Household,
the Comptroller of the Household, the Captain ofthe Band of
Gentlemen Pensioners, the Queen's Chamberlain, andother persons
who were bound by strong ties of interest to thecourt.
Nevertheless, Delamere had some great advantages over thehumbler culprits
who had been arraigned at the Old Bailey. Therethe jurymen,
violent partisans, taken for a single day by courtlySheriffs from
the mass of society and speedily sent back tomingle with that
mass, were under no restraint of shame, andbeing little
accustomed to weigh evidence, followed withoutscruple the
directions of the bench. But in the High Steward'sCourt every
Trier was a man of some experience in grave affairs.Every Trier
filled a considerable space in the public eye. EveryTrier, beginning
from the lowest, had to rise separately and togive in his
verdict, on his honour, before a great concourse.That verdict,
accompanied with his name, would go to every partof the world,
and would live in history. Moreover, though theselected nobles
were all Tories, and almost all placemen, many ofthem had begun
to look with uneasiness on the King's proceedings,and to doubt
whether the case of Delamere might not soon be theirown.

Jeffreys
conducted himself, as was his wont, insolently andunjustly. He had
indeed an old grudge to stimulate his zeal. Hehad been Chief
Justice of Chester when Delamere, then Mr. Booth,represented that
county in Parliament. Booth had bitterlycomplained to
the Commons that the dearest interests of hisconstituents were intrusted to a drunken
jackpudding. Therevengeful judge
was now not ashamed to resort to artifices whicheven in an
advocate would have been culpable. He reminded theLords Triers, in
very significant language, that Delamere had, inParliament,
objected to the bill for attainting Monmouth, a factwhich was not,
and could not be, in evidence. But it was not inthe power of
Jeffreys to overawe a synod of peers as he had beenin the habit of
overawing common juries. The evidence for thecrown would
probably have been thought amply sufficient on theWestern Circuit
or at the City Sessions, but could not for amoment impose on
such men as Rochester, Godolphin, and Churchill; nor were they,
with all their faults, depraved enough to condemna fellow
creature to death against the plainest rules of justice.Grey, Wade, and
Goodenough were produced, but could only repeatwhat they had
heard said by Monmouth and by Wildman's emissaries.The principal
witness for the prosecution, a miscreant namedSaxton, who had
been concerned in the rebellion, and was nowlabouring to
earn his pardon by swearing against all who wereobnoxious to the
government, who proved by overwhelming evidenceto have told a
series of falsehoods. All the Triers, fromChurchill who,
as junior baron, spoke first, up to the Treasurer,pronounced, on
their honour, that Delamere was not guilty. Thegravity and pomp
of the whole proceeding made a deep impressioneven on the
Nuncio, accustomed as he was to the ceremonies ofRome, ceremonies
which, in solemnity and splendour, exceed allthat the rest of
the world can show. The King, who was present,and was unable
to complain of a decision evidently just, wentinto a rage with
Saxton, and vowed that the wretch should firstbe pilloried
before Westminster Hall for perjury, and then sentdown to the West
to be hanged, drawn, and quartered fortreason.

The public joy
at the acquittal of Delamere was great. The reignof terror was
over. The innocent began to breathe freely, andfalse accusers
to tremble. One letter written on this occasion isscarcely to be
read without tears. The widow of Russell, in herretirement,
learned the good news with mingled feelings. "I dobless God," she
wrote, "that he has caused some stop to be put tothe shedding of
blood in this poor land. Yet when I shouldrejoice with
them that do rejoice, I seek a corner to weep in. Ifind I am
capable of no more gladness; but every newcircumstance,
the very comparing my night of sorrow after such aday, with theirs
of joy, does, from a reflection of one kind oranother, rack my
uneasy mind. Though I am far from wishing theclose of theirs
like mine, yet I cannot refrain giving some timeto lament mine
was not like theirs."

And now the tide
was on the turn. The death of Stafford,witnessed with
signs of tenderness and remorse by the populace towhose rage he
was sacrificed, marks the close of oneproscription.
The acquittal of Delamere marks the close ofanother. The
crimes which had disgraced the stormy tribuneship ofShaftesbury had
been fearfully expiated. The blood of innocentPapists had been
avenged more than tenfold by the blood ofzealous
Protestants. Another great reaction had commenced.Factions were
fast taking new forms. Old allies were separating. Old enemies were
uniting. Discontent was spreading fast throughall the ranks of
the party lately dominant. A hope, still indeedfaint and
indefinite, of victory and revenge, animated the partywhich had lately
seemed to be extinct. Amidst such circumstancesthe eventful and
troubled year 1685 terminated, and the year 1686began.

The prorogation
had relieved the King from the gentleremonstrances of
the Houses: but he had still to listen toremonstrances,
similar in effect, though uttered in a tone evenmore cautious
and subdued. Some men who had hitherto served himbut too
strenuously for their own fame and for the public welfarehad begun to
feel painful misgivings, and occasionally venturedto hint a small
part of what they felt.

During many
years the zeal of the English Tory for hereditarymonarchy and his
zeal for the established religion had grown uptogether and had
strengthened each other. It had never occurredto him that the
two sentiments, which seemed inseparable and evenidentical, might
one day be found to be not only distinct butincompatible.
From the commencement of the strife between theStuarts and the
Commons, the cause of the crown and the cause ofthe hierarchy
had, to all appearance, been one. Charles the Firstwas regarded by
the Church as her martyr. If Charles the Secondhad plotted
against her, he had plotted in secret. In public hehad ever
professed himself her grateful and devoted son, hadknelt at her
altars, and, in spite of his loose morals, hadsucceeded in
persuading the great body of her adherents that hefelt a sincere
preference for her. Whatever conflicts, therefore,the honest
Cavalier might have had to maintain against Whigs andRoundheads he
had at least been hitherto undisturbed by conflictin his own mind.
He had seen the path of duty plain before him.Through good and
evil he was to be true to Church and King. But,if those two
august and venerable powers, which had hithertoseemed to be so
closely connected that those who were true to onecould not be
false to the other, should be divided by a deadlyenmity, what
course was the orthodox Royalist to take? Whatsituation could
be more trying than that in which he would beplaced,
distracted between two duties equally sacred, between twoaffections
equally ardent? How was he to give to Caesar all thatwas Caesar's,
and yet to withhold from God no part of what wasGod's? None who
felt thus could have watched, without deepconcern and
gloomy forebodings, the dispute between the King andthe Parliament
on the subject of the test. If James could evennow be induced
to reconsider his course, to let the Houses reassemble, and
to comply with their wishes, all might yet bewell.

Such were the
sentiments of the King's two kinsmen, the Earls ofClarendon and
Rochester. The power and favour of these noblemenseemed to be
great indeed. The younger brother was Lord Treasurerand prime
minister; and the elder, after holding the Privy Sealduring some
months, had been appointed Lord Lieutenant ofIreland. The
venerable Ormond took the same side. Middleton andPreston, who, as
managers of the House of Commons, had recentlylearned by proof
how dear the established religion was to theloyal gentry of
England, were also for moderate counsels.

At the very
beginning of the new year these statesmen and thegreat party
which they represented had to suffer a cruelmortification.
That the late King had been at heart a RomanCatholic had
been, during some months, suspected and whispered,but not formally
announced. The disclosure, indeed, could not bemade without
great scandal. Charles had, times without number,declared himself
a Protestant, and had been in the habit ofreceiving the
Eucharist from the Bishops of the EstablishedChurch. Those
Protestants who had stood by him in hisdifficulties,
and who still cherished an affectionate remembranceof him, must be
filled with shame and indignation by learningthat his whole
life had been a lie, that, while he professed tobelong to their
communion, he had really regarded them asheretics, and
that the demagogues who had represented him as aconcealed Papist
had been the only people who had formed acorrect judgment
of his character. Even Lewis understood enoughof the state of
public feeling in England to be aware that thedivulging of the
truth might do harm, and had, of his own accord,promised to keep
the conversion of Charles strictly secret.James, while his
power was still new, had thought that on thispoint it was
advisable to be cautious, and had not ventured tointer his
brother with the rites of the Church of Rome. For atime, therefore,
every man was at liberty to believe what hewished. The
Papists claimed the deceased prince as theirproselyte. The
Whigs execrated him as a hypocrite and a renegade.The Tories
regarded the report of his apostasy as a calumny whichPapists and
Whigs had, for very different reasons, a commoninterest in
circulating. James now took a step which greatlydisconcerted the
whole Anglican party. Two papers, in which wereset forth very
concisely the arguments ordinarily used by RomanCatholics in
controversy with Protestants, had been found inCharles's strong
box, and appeared to be in his handwriting.

These papers
James showed triumphantly to several Protestants,and declared
that, to his knowledge, his brother had lived anddied a Roman Catholic. One of the persons to whom themanuscripts were
exhibited was Archbishop Sancroft. He read themwith much
emotion, and remained silent. Such silence was only thenatural effect
of a struggle between respect and vexation. ButJames supposed
that the Primate was struck dumb by theirresistible
force of reason, and eagerly challenged his Grace toproduce, with
the help of the whole episcopal bench, asatisfactory
reply. "Let me have a solid answer, and in agentlemanlike
style; and it may have the effect which you so muchdesire of
bringing me over to your Church." The Archbishopmildly said
that, in his opinion, such an answer might, withoutmuch difficulty,
be written, but declined the controversy on theplea of
reverence for the memory of his deceased master. Thisplea the King
considered as the subterfuge of a vanquisheddisputant. Had
he been well acquainted with the polemicalliterature of
the preceding century and a half, he would haveknown that the
documents to which he attached so much value mighthave been
composed by any lad of fifteen in the college of Douay,and contained
nothing which had not, in the opinion of allProtestant
divines, been ten thousand times refuted. In hisignorant
exultation he ordered these tracts to be printed withthe utmost pomp
of typography, and appended to them a declarationattested by his
sign manual, and certifying that the originalswere in his
brother's own hand. James himself distributed thewhole edition
among his courtiers and among the people of humblerrank who crowded
round his coach. He gave one copy to a youngwoman of mean
condition whom he supposed to be of his ownreligious
persuasion, and assured her that she would be greatlyedified and
comforted by the perusal. In requital of his kindnessshe delivered to
him, a few days later, an epistle adjuring himto come out of
the mystical Babylon and to dash from his lips thecup of
fornications.

These things
gave great uneasiness to Tory churchmen. Nor werethe most
respectable Roman Catholic noblemen much better pleased.They might
indeed have been excused if passion had, at thisconjuncture,
made them deaf to the voice of prudence and justice:for they had
suffered much. Protestant jealousy had degraded themfrom the rank to
which they were born, had closed the doors ofthe Parliament
House on the heirs of barons who had signed theCharter, had
pronounced the command of a company of foot too higha trust for the
descendants of the generals who had conquered atFlodden and
Saint Quentin. There was scarcely one eminent peer attached to the
old faith whose honour, whose estate, whose lifehad not been in
jeopardy, who had not passed months in the Tower,who had not
often anticipated for himself the fate of Stafford.Men who had been
so long and cruelly oppressed might have beenpardoned if they
had eagerly seized the first opportunity ofobtaining at
once greatness and revenge. But neither fanaticismnor ambition,
neither resentment for past wrongs nor theintoxication
produced by sudden good fortune, could prevent themost eminent
Roman Catholics from perceiving that the prosperitywhich they at
length enjoyed was only temporary, and, unlesswisely used,
might be fatal to them. They had been taught, by acruel
experience, that the antipathy of the nation to theirreligion was not
a fancy which would yield to the mandate of aprince, but a
profound sentiment, the growth of five generations,diffused through
all ranks and parties, and intertwined not lessclosely with the
principles of the Tory than with the principlesof the Whig. It
was indeed in the power of the King, by theexercise of his
prerogative of mercy, to suspend the operation ofthe penal laws.
It might hereafter be in his power, by discreetmanagement, to
obtain from the Parliament a repeal of the actswhich imposed
civil disabilities on those who professed hisreligion. But,
if he attempted to subdue the Protestant feelingof England by
rude means, it was easy to see that the violentcompression of
so powerful and elastic a spring would be followedby as violent a
recoil. The Roman Catholic peers, by prematurelyattempting to
force their way into the Privy Council and theHouse of Lords,
might lose their mansions and their ampleestates, and
might end their lives as traitors on Tower Hill, oras beggars at
the porches of Italian convents.

Such was the
feeling of William Herbert, Earl of Powis, who wasgenerally
regarded as the chief of the Roman Catholicaristocracy, and
who, according to Oates, was to have been primeminister if the
Popish plot had succeeded. John Lord Bellasysetook the same
view of the state of affairs. In his youth he hadfought gallantly
for Charles the First, had been rewarded afterthe Restoration
with high honours and commands, and had quittedthem when the
Test Act was passed. With these distinguishedleaders all the
noblest and most opulent members of their churchconcurred,
except Lord Arundell of Wardour, an old man fastsinking into
second childhood.

But there was at
the court a small knot of Roman Catholics whosehearts had been
ulcerated by old injuries, whose heads had beenturned by recent
elevation, who were impatient to climb to the highest honours
of the state, and who, having little to lose,were not
troubled by thoughts of the day of reckoning. One ofthese was Roger
Palmer, Earl of Castelmaine in Ireland, andhusband of the
Duchess of Cleveland. His title had notoriouslybeen purchased
by his wife's dishonour and his own. His fortunewas small. His
temper, naturally ungentle, had been exasperatedby his domestic
vexations, by the public reproaches, and by whathe had undergone
in the days of the Popish plot. He had been longa prisoner, and
had at length been tried for his life. Happilyfor him, he was
not put to the bar till the first burst ofpopular rage had
spent itself, and till the credit of the falsewitnesses had
been blown upon. He had therefore escaped, thoughvery narrowly.
With Castelmaine was allied one of the mostfavoured of his
wife's hundred lovers, Henry Jermyn, whom Jameshad lately
created a peer by the title of Lord Dover. Jermyn hadbeen
distinguished more than twenty years before by his vagrantamours and his
desperate duels. He was now ruined by play, andwas eager to
retrieve his fallen fortunes by means of lucrativeposts from which
the laws excluded him. To the same partybelonged an
intriguing pushing Irishman named White, who had beenmuch abroad, who
had served the House of Austria as somethingbetween an envoy
and a spy, and who had been rewarded for hisservices with
the title of Marquess of Albeville.

Soon after the
prorogation this reckless faction was strengthenedby an important
reinforcement. Richard Talbot, Earl of Tyrconnel,the fiercest and
most uncompromising of all those who hated theliberties and
religion of England, arrived at court from Dublin.

Talbot was
descended from an old Norman family which had beenlong settled in
Leinster, which had there sunk into degeneracy,which had
adopted the manners of the Celts, which had, like theCelts, adhered
to the old religion, and which had taken part withthe Celts in the
rebellion of 1641. In his youth he had been oneof the most
noted sharpers and bullies of London. He had beenintroduced to
Charles and James when they were exiles inFlanders, as a
man fit and ready for the infamous service ofassassinating
the Protector. Soon after the Restoration, Talbotattempted to
obtain the favour of the royal family by a servicemore infamous
still. A plea was wanted which might justify theDuke of York in
breaking that promise of marriage by which he hadobtained from
Anne Hyde the last proof of female affection. Sucha plea Talbot,
in concert with some of his dissolute companions,undertook to
furnish. They agreed to describe the poor young ladyas a creature
without virtue, shame, or delicacy, and made up long romances
about tender interviews and stolen favours. Talbotin particular
related how, in one of his secret visits to her, hehad unluckily
overturned the Chancellor's inkstand upon a pile ofpapers, and how
cleverly she had averted a discovery by layingthe blame of the
accident on her monkey. These stories, which, ifthey had been
true, would never have passed the lips of any butthe basest of
mankind, were pure inventions. Talbot was soonforced to own
that they were so; and he owned it without a blush.The injured lady
became Duchess of York. Had her husband been aman really
upright and honourable, he would have driven from hispresence with
indignation and contempt the wretches who hadslandered her.
But one of the peculiarities of James's characterwas that no act,
however wicked and shameful, which had beenprompted by a
desire to gain his favour, ever seemed to himdeserving of
disapprobation. Talbot continued to frequent thecourt, appeared
daily with brazen front before the princess whoseruin he had
plotted, and was installed into the lucrative post ofchief pandar to
her husband. In no long time Whitehall was throwninto confusion
by the news that Dick Talbot, as he was commonlycalled, had laid
a plan to murder the Duke of Ormond. The bravowas sent to the
Tower: but in a few days he was again swaggeringabout the
galleries, and carrying billets backward and forwardbetween his
patron and the ugliest maids of honour. It was invain that old
and discreet counsellors implored the royalbrothers not to
countenance this bad man, who had nothing torecommend him
except his fine person and his taste in dress.Talbot was not
only welcome at the palace when the bottle or thedicebox was
going round, but was heard with attention on mattersof business. He
affected the character of an Irish patriot, andpleaded, with
great audacity, and sometimes with success, thecause of his
countrymen whose estates had been confiscated. Hetook care,
however, to be well paid for his services, andsucceeded in
acquiring, partly by the sale of his influence,partly by
gambling, and partly by pimping, an estate of threethousand pounds
a year. For under an outward show of levity,profusion,
improvidence, and eccentric impudence, he was in truthone of the most
mercenary and crafty of mankind. He was now nolonger young,
and was expiating by severe sufferings thedissoluteness of
his youth: but age and disease had made noessential change
in his character and manners. He still, wheneverhe opened his
mouth, ranted, cursed and swore with such franticviolence that
superficial observers set him down for the wildestof libertines.
The multitude was unable to conceive that a manwho, even when
sober, was more furious and boastful than otherswhen they were
drunk, and who seemed utterly incapable of disguising any
emotion or keeping any secret, could really be acoldhearted,
farsighted, scheming sycophant. Yet such a man wasTalbot. In truth
his hypocrisy was of a far higher and rarer sortthan the
hypocrisy which had flourished in Barebone's Parliament.For the
consummate hypocrite is not he who conceals vice behindthe semblance of
virtue, but he who makes the vice which he hasno objection to
show a stalking horse to cover darker and moreprofitable vice
which it is for his interest to hide.

Talbot, raised
by James to the earldom of Tyrconnel, hadcommanded the
troops in Ireland during the nine months whichelapsed between
the death of Charles and the commencement of theviceroyalty of
Clarendon. When the new Lord Lieutenant was aboutto leave London
for Dublin, the General was summoned from Dublinto London. Dick
Talbot had long been well known on the road whichhe had now to
travel. Between Chester and the capital there wasnot an inn where
he had not been in a brawl. Wherever he came hepressed horses
in defiance of law, swore at the cooks andpostilions, and
almost raised mobs by his insolent rodomontades.The Reformation,
he told the people, had ruined everything. Butfine times were
coming. The Catholics would soon be uppermost.The heretics
should pay for all. Raving and blasphemingincessantly,
like a demoniac, he came to the court. As soon ashe was there, he
allied himself closely with Castelmaine, Dover,and Albeville.
These men called with one voice for war on theconstitution of
the Church and the State. They told their masterthat he owed it
to his religion and to the dignity of his crownto stand firm
against the outcry of heretical demagogues, and tolet the
Parliament see from the first that he would be master inspite of
opposition, and that the only effect of opposition wouldbe to make him a
hard master.

Each of the two
parties into which the court was divided hadzealous foreign
allies. The ministers of Spain, of the Empire,and of the
States General were now as anxious to supportRochester as
they had formerly been to support Halifax. All theinfluence of
Barillon was employed on the other side; andBarillon was
assisted by another French agent, inferior to him instation, but far
superior in abilities, Bonrepaux. Barillon wasnot without
parts, and possessed in large measure the graces andaccomplishments
which then distinguished the French gentry. Buthis capacity was
scarcely equal to what his great place required.He had become
sluggish and self indulgent, liked the pleasures ofsociety and of
the table better than business, and on greatemergencies
generally waited for admonitions and even for reprimands from
Versailles before he showed much activity.53Bonrepaux had
raised himself from obscurity by the intelligenceand industry
which he had exhibited as a clerk in the departmentof the marine,
and was esteemed an adept in the mystery ofmercantile
politics. At the close of the year 1685, he was sentto London,
charged with several special commissions of highimportance. He
was to lay the ground for a treaty of commerce; hewas to ascertain
and report the state of the English fleets anddockyards; and
he was to make some overtures to the Huguenotrefugees, who,
it was supposed, had been so effectually tamed bypenury and
exile, that they would thankfully accept almost anyterms of
reconciliation. The new Envoy's origin was plebeian, hisstature was
dwarfish, his countenance was ludicrously ugly, andhis accent was
that of his native Gascony: but his strong sense,his keen
penetration, and his lively wit eminently qualified himfor his post. In
spite of every disadvantage of birth and figurehe was soon
known as a most pleasing companion and as a mostskilful
diplomatist. He contrived, while flirting with theDuchess of
Mazarin, discussing literary questions with Waller andSaint Evremond,
and corresponding with La Fontaine, to acquire aconsiderable
knowledge of English politics. His skill in maritimeaffairs
recommended him to James, who had, during many years,paid close
attention to the business of the Admiralty, andunderstood that
business as well as he was capable ofunderstanding
anything. They conversed every day long and freelyabout the state
of the shipping and the dock-yards. The result ofthis intimacy
was, as might have been expected, that the keen andvigilant
Frenchman conceived a great contempt for the King'sabilities and
character. The world, he said, had much overratedHis Britannic
Majesty, who had less capacity than Charles, andnot more
virtues.

The two envoys
of Lewis, though pursuing one object, veryjudiciously took
different paths. They made a partition of thecourt. Bonrepaux
lived chiefly with Rochester and Rochester'sadherents.
Barillon's connections were chiefly with the oppositefaction. The
consequence was that they sometimes saw the sameevent in
different points of view. The best account now extant ofthe contest
which at this time agitated Whitehall is to be foundin their
despatches.

As each of the
two parties at the Court of James had the supportof foreign
princes, so each had also the support of anecclesiastical
authority to which the King paid great deference.The Supreme
Pontiff was for legal and moderate courses; and his sentiments were
expressed by the Nuncio and by the VicarApostolic. On
the other side was a body of which the weightbalanced even
the weight of the Papacy, the mighty Order ofJesus.

That at this
conjuncture these two great spiritual powers, once,as it seemed,
inseparably allied, should have been opposed toeach other, is a
most important and remarkable circumstance.During a period
of little less than a thousand years the regularclergy had been
the chief support of the Holy See. By that Seethey had been
protected from episcopal interference; and theprotection which
they had received had been amply repaid. But fortheir exertions
it is probable that the Bishop of Rome would havebeen merely the
honorary president of a vast aristocracy ofprelates. It was
by the aid of the Benedictines that Gregory theSeventh was
enabled to contend at once against the FranconianCaesars and
against the secular priesthood. It was by the aid ofthe Dominicans
and Franciscans that Innocent the Third crushedthe Albigensian
sectaries. In the sixteenth century thePontificate
exposed to new dangers more formidable than had everbefore
threatened it, was saved by a new religious order, whichwas animated by
intense enthusiasm and organized with exquisiteskill. When the
Jesuits came to the rescue of the Papacy, theyfound it in
extreme peril: but from that moment the tide ofbattle turned.
Protestantism, which had, during a wholegeneration,
carried all before it, was stopped in its progress,and rapidly
beaten back from the foot of the Alps to the shoresof the Baltic.
Before the Order had existed a hundred years, ithad filled the
whole world with memorials of great things doneand suffered for
the faith. No religious community could producea list of men so
variously distinguished: - none had extended itsoperations over
so vast a space; yet in none had there ever beensuch perfect
unity of feeling and action. There was no region ofthe globe, no
walk of speculative or of active life, in whichJesuits were not
to be found. They guided the counsels of Kings.They deciphered
Latin inscriptions. They observed the motions ofJupiter's
satellites. They published whole libraries,controversy,
casuistry, history, treatises on optics, Alcaicodes, editions
of the fathers, madrigals, catechisms, andlampoons. The
liberal education of youth passed almost entirelyinto their
hands, and was conducted by them with conspicuousability. They
appear to have discovered the precise point towhich
intellectual culture can be carried without risk ofintellectual
emancipation. Enmity itself was compelled to ownthat, in the art
of managing and forming the tender mind, they had no equals.
Meanwhile they assiduously and successfullycultivated the
eloquence of the pulpit. With still greaterassiduity and
still greater success they applied themselves tothe ministry of
the confessional. Throughout Catholic Europe thesecrets of every
government and of almost every family of notewere in their
keeping. They glided from one Protestant country toanother under
innumerable disguises, as gay Cavaliers, as simplerustics, as
Puritan preachers. They wandered to countries whichneither
mercantile avidity nor liberal curiosity had everimpelled any
stranger to explore. They were to be found in thegarb of
Mandarins, superintending the observatory at Pekin. Theywere to be
found, spade in hand, teaching the rudiments ofagriculture to
the savages of Paraguay. Yet, whatever might betheir residence,
whatever might be their employment, their spiritwas the same,
entire devotion to the common cause, implicitobedience to the
central authority. None of them had chosen hisdwelling place
or his vocation for himself. Whether the Jesuitshould live
under the arctic circle or under the equator, whetherhe should pass
his life in arranging gems and collatingmanuscripts at
the Vatican or in persuading naked barbarians inthe southern
hemisphere not to eat each other, were matters whichhe left with
profound submission to the decision of others. If hewas wanted at
Lima, he was on the Atlantic in the next fleet. Ifhe was wanted at
Bagdad, he was toiling through the desert withthe next
caravan. If his ministry was needed in some countrywhere his life
was more insecure than that of a wolf, where itwas a crime to
harbour him, where the heads and quarters of hisbrethren, fixed
in the public places, showed him what he had toexpect, he went
without remonstrance or hesitation to his doom.Nor is this
heroic spirit yet extinct. When, in our own time, anew and terrible
pestilence passed round the globe, when, in somegreat cities,
fear had dissolved all the ties which hold societytogether, when
the secular clergy had deserted their flocks, whenmedical succour
was not to he purchased by gold, when thestrongest
natural affections had yielded to the love of life,even then the
Jesuit was found by the pallet which bishop andcurate,
physician and nurse, father and mother, had deserted,bending over
infected lips to catch the faint accents ofconfession, and
holding up to the last, before the expiringpenitent, the
image of the expiring Redeemer.

But with the
admirable energy, disinterestedness, and self-devotion which
were characteristic of the Society, great viceswere mingled. It
was alleged, and not without foundation, thatthe ardent
public spirit which made the Jesuit regardless of his ease, of his
liberty, and of his life, made him also regardlessof truth and of
mercy; that no means which could promote theinterest of his
religion seemed to him unlawful, and that by theinterest of his
religion he too often meant the interest of hisSociety. It was
alleged that, in the most atrocious plotsrecorded in
history, his agency could be distinctly traced; that,constant only in
attachment to the fraternity to which hebelonged, he was
in some countries the most dangerous enemy offreedom, and in
others the most dangerous enemy of order. Themighty victories
which he boasted that he had achieved in thecause of the
Church were, in the judgment of many illustriousmembers of that
Church, rather apparent than real. He had indeedlaboured with a
wonderful show of success to reduce the worldunder her laws;
but he had done so by relaxing her laws to suitthe temper of
the world. Instead of toiling to elevate humannature to the
noble standard fixed by divine precept and example,he had lowered
the standard till it was beneath the average levelof human nature.
He gloried in multitudes of converts who hadbeen baptized in
the remote regions of the East: but it wasreported that
from some of those converts the facts on which thewhole theology
of the Gospel depends had been cunninglyconcealed, and
that others were permitted to avoid persecution bybowing down
before the images of false gods, while internallyrepeating Paters
and Ayes. Nor was it only in heathen countriesthat such arts
were said to be practised. It was not strange thatpeople of alt
ranks, and especially of the highest ranks, crowdedto the
confessionals in the Jesuit temples; for from thoseconfessionals
none went discontented away. There the priest wasall things to
all men. He showed just so much rigour as might notdrive those who
knelt at his spiritual tribunal to the Dominicanor the
Franciscan church. If he had to deal with a mind trulydevout, he spoke
in the saintly tones of the primitive fathers,but with that
very large part of mankind who have religion enoughto make them
uneasy when they do wrong, and not religion enoughto keep them
from doing wrong, he followed a very differentsystem. Since he
could not reclaim them from guilt, it was hisbusiness to save
them from remorse. He had at his command animmense
dispensary of anodynes for wounded consciences. In thebooks of
casuistry which had been written by his brethren, andprinted with the
approbation of his superiors, were to be founddoctrines
consolatory to transgressors of every class. There thebankrupt was
taught how he might, without sin, secrete his goodsfrom his
creditors. The servant was taught how he might, withoutsin, run off
with his master's plate. The pandar was assured thata Christian man
might innocently earn his living by carrying letters and
messages between married women and their gallants.The high
spirited and punctilious gentlemen of France weregratified by a
decision in favour of duelling. The Italians,accustomed to
darker and baser modes of vengeance, were glad tolearn that they
might, without any crime, shoot at their enemiesfrom behind
hedges. To deceit was given a license sufficient todestroy the
whole value of human contracts and of humantestimony. In
truth, if society continued to hold together, iflife and
property enjoyed any security, it was because commonsense and common
humanity restrained men from doing what theSociety of Jesus
assured them that they might with a safeconscience do.

So strangely
were good and evil intermixed in the character ofthese celebrated
brethren; and the intermixture was the secret oftheir gigantic
power. That power could never have belonged tomere hypocrites.
It could never have belonged to rigid moralists.It was to be
attained only by men sincerely enthusiastic in thepursuit of a
great end, and at the same time unscrupulous as tothe choice of
means.

From the first
the Jesuits had been bound by a peculiarallegiance to
the Pope. Their mission had been not less to quellall mutiny
within the Church than to repel the hostility of heravowed enemies.
Their doctrine was in the highest degree what hasbeen called on
our side of the Alps Ultramontane, and differedalmost as much
from the doctrine of Bossuet as from that ofLuther. They
condemned the Gallican liberties, the claim ofoecumenical
councils to control the Holy See, and the claim ofBishops to an
independent commission from heaven. Lainez, in thename of the
whole fraternity, proclaimed at Trent, amidst theapplause of the
creatures of Pius the Fourth, and the murmurs ofFrench and
Spanish prelates, that the government of the faithfulhad been
committed by Christ to the Pope alone, that in the Popealone all
sacerdotal authority was concentrated, and that throughthe Pope alone
priests and bishops derived whatever divineauthority they
possessed. During many years the union betweenthe Supreme
Pontiffs and the Order had continued unbroken. Hadthat union been
still unbroken when James the Second ascended theEnglish throne,
had the influence of the Jesuits as well as theinfluence of the
Pope been exerted in favour of a moderate andconstitutional
policy, it is probable that the great revolutionwhich in a short
time changed the whole state of European affairswould never have
taken place. But, even before the middle of theseventeenth
century, the Society, proud of its services and confident in its
strength, had become impatient of the yoke. Ageneration of
Jesuits sprang up, who looked for protection andguidance rather
to the court of France than to the court of Rome;and this
disposition was not a little strengthened when Innocentthe Eleventh was
raised to the papal throne.

The Jesuits
were, at that time, engaged in a war to the deathagainst an enemy
whom they had at first disdained, but whom theyhad at length
been forced to regard with respect and fear. Justwhen their
prosperity was at the height, they were braved by ahandful of
opponents, who had indeed no influence with the rulersof this world,
but who were strong in religious faith andintellectual
energy. Then followed a long, a strange, a gloriousconflict of
genius against power. The Jesuit called cabinets,tribunals,
universities to his aid; and they responded to thecall. Port Royal
appealed, not in vain, to the hearts and to theunderstandings
of millions. The dictators of Christendom foundthemselves, on a
sudden, in the position of culprits. They werearraigned on the
charge of having systematically debased thestandard of
evangelical morality, for the purpose of increasingtheir own
influence; and the charge was enforced in a mannerwhich at once
arrested the attention of the whole world: for thechief accuser
was Blaise Pascal. His intellectual powers weresuch as have
rarely been bestowed on any of the children of men;and the
vehemence of the zeal which animated him was but too wellproved by the
cruel penances and vigils under which his maceratedframe sank into
an early grave. His spirit was the spirit ofSaint Bernard:
but the delicacy of his wit, the purity, theenergy, the
simplicity of his rhetoric, had never been equalled,except by the
great masters of Attic eloquence. All Europe readand admired,
laughed and wept. The Jesuits attempted to reply:but their feeble
answers were received by the public with shoutsof mockery. They
wanted, it is true, no talent or accomplishmentinto which men
can be drilled by elaborate discipline; but suchdiscipline,
though it may bring out the powers of ordinary minds,has a tendency
to suffocate, rather than to develop, originalgenius. It was
universally acknowledged that, in the literarycontest, the
Jansenists were completely victorious. To theJesuits nothing
was left but to oppress the sect which they couldnot confute.
Lewis the Fourteenth was now their chief support.His conscience
had, from boyhood, been in their keeping; and hehad learned from
them to abhor Jansenism quite as much as heabhorred
Protestantism, and very much more than he abhorredAtheism.
Innocent the Eleventh, on the other hand, leaned to theJansenist
opinions. The consequence was, that the Society found itself in a
situation never contemplated by its founder. TheJesuits were
estranged from the Supreme Pontiff; and they wereclosely allied
with a prince who proclaimed himself the championof the Gallican
liberties and the enemy of Ultramontanepretensions.
Thus the Order became in England an instrument ofthe designs of
Lewis, and laboured, with a success which theRoman Catholics
afterwards long and bitterly deplored, to widenthe breach
between the King and the Parliament, to thwart theNuncio, to
undermine the power of the Lord Treasurer, and tosupport the most
desperate schemes of Tyrconnel.

Thus on one side
were the Hydes and the whole body of Torychurchmen, Powis
and all the most respectable noblemen andgentlemen of the
King's own faith, the States General, the Houseof Austria, and
the Pope. On the other side were a few RomanCatholic
adventurers, of broken fortune and tainted reputation,backed by France
and by the Jesuits.

The chief
representative of the Jesuits at Whitehall was anEnglish brother
of the Order, who had, during some time, acted asViceprovincial,
who had been long regarded by James with peculiarfavour, and who
had lately been made Clerk of the Closet. Thisman, named
Edward Petre, was descended from an honourable family.His manners were
courtly: his speech was flowing and plausible;but he was weak
and vain, covetous and ambitious. Of all the evilcounsellors who
had access to the royal ear, he bore, perhaps,the largest part
in the ruin of the House of Stuart.

The obstinate
and imperious nature of the King gave greatadvantages to
those who advised him to be firm, to yield nothing,and to make
himself feared. One state maxim had taken possessionof his small
understanding, and was not to be dislodged byreason. To
reason, indeed, he was not in the habit of attending.His mode of
arguing, if it is to be so called, was one notuncommon among
dull and stubborn persons, who are accustomed tobe surrounded by
their inferiors. He asserted a proposition; and,as often as
wiser people ventured respectfully to show that itwas erroneous,
he asserted it again, in exactly the same words,and conceived
that, by doing so, he at once disposed of allobjections. "I
will make no concession," he often repeated; "myfather made
concessions, and he was beheaded." If it were truethat concession
had been fatal to Charles the First, a man ofsense would have
known that a single experiment is not sufficientto establish a
general rule even in sciences much lesscomplicated than
the science of government; that, since the beginning of the
world, no two political experiments were evermade of which
all the conditions were exactly alike; and that theonly way to
learn civil prudence from history is to examine andcompare an
immense number of cases. But, if the single instanceon which the
King relied proved anything, it proved that he wasin the wrong.
There can be little doubt that, if Charles hadfrankly made to
the Short Parliament, which met in the spring of1640, but one
half of the concessions which he made, a few monthslater, to the
Long Parliament, he would have lived and died apowerful King.
On the other hand, there can be no doubt whateverthat, if he had
refused to make any concession to the LongParliament, and
had resorted to arms in defence of the ship moneyand of the Star
Chamber, he would have seen, in the hostileranks, Hyde and
Falkland side by side with Hollis and Hampden.But, in truth,
he would not have been able to resort to arms; fornor twenty
Cavaliers would have joined his standard. It was tohis large
concessions alone that he owed the support of thatgreat body of
noblemen and gentlemen who fought so long and sogallantly in his
cause. But it would have been useless torepresent these
things to James.

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